


And They Danced

by UltimateGryffindork



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry Molly Hooper, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Sherlock, F/M, Friendship, Getting Together, Romance, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:46:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9514298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateGryffindork/pseuds/UltimateGryffindork
Summary: Molly Hooper has some words for Eurus Holmes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly just me trying to work out where Sherlock and Molly are at the end of TFP.  
> Also letting Molly having her say, because Moftiss were never going to let that happen.

Molly took a deep breath as the lift door opened, mentally preparing herself before shakily stepping out. The guards either side of the room didn’t so much as glance at her as she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, slowly making her way to the line partway across the room. She looked down as she reached it, lining the toes of her shoes up exactly with the edge of the white stripe.

She didn’t know what she’d expected. Although it certainly wasn’t this, she somehow wasn’t surprised. After all, why should the psychopathic sister of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes turn around to look at _her_?

“Hello?” she said, cursing the slight tremor in her voice. “Hello,” she said again, stating it more firmly.

The woman in the cell made no indication of having heard her, not turning around, not even twitching.

“I – I’m Molly,” said Molly, as bravely as she could. “But – but you already know that.”

There was no response.

“You know that,” she continued, her voice still shaking but from anger rather than nerves, “You know that because you – you threatened to kill me. You told Sherlock you would kill me if I didn’t – ” Her breath caught in her throat.

Still nothing.

“You made me tell him!” she exclaimed, feet rooted to the spot as her head started to boil with anger. “You – you made me tell him my – my deepest, my worst secret, for – for fun! For your own entertainment!”

She waited a few seconds for a response that never came.

“Who gave you the right?” she shouted, still standing firm. “What gives _you_ the right to decide what – what I do, what I say, how we – how I feel?!”

She didn’t bother wiping the tears from her face. It wasn’t like the woman in the cell would see; she still hadn’t moved.

Molly stood in silence for a few seconds, fuming, trying to control her anger.

“Answer me,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet.

Nothing.

“ANSWER ME!”

Molly’s scream echoed around the concrete walls.

“Say something! Say something to me, say something _right now_ or I swear I’ll – I’ll – ”

For a moment Molly simply stood there, gaping wordlessly, unable to think of what to say.

“Look at me,” she said slowly, glaring daggers at the back of the woman’s head. “Look. At. Me!”

She ran forwards, ignoring the guards who stepped forwards as they realised what she was about to do, hammering her fists against the glass.

“Look at me! LOOK AT ME!”

She didn’t know how long she stood there, shouting and slamming her hands on the screen that separated her from the faceless woman, her face messy with tears. She heard the commotion behind her but ignored it, daring the woman to turn around with her stare, but nothing happened. Nothing changed.

As she started to run out of energy, the anger running out to quickly, her knees buckling beneath her, she felt warm, strong arms wrap around her, hold her up, pull her close.

“I’m sorry,” she heard Sherlock whisper as he tentatively brought a hand up to rest on her hair, clearly nervous and unsure about what he was doing. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She’d thought that she had enough tears to last for hours, days, but something about Sherlock’s presence…

There was a practicality to Sherlock. He knew emotion, he had emotion, but he used it as a tool rather than as a force which dictated his daily life. There would be time for tears. Now, however, they were neither useful nor necessary.

“I suppose – I suppose Mycroft told you where I was,” she sniffed, stepping back slightly.

“Yes.” He said it simply. It was an answer that they both already knew. He sighed, turning to look into the cell where his sister still sat, motionless. “I suppose he thought it would be kinder to let you see her. To let you have some sort of closure.”

“You think he was wrong.” A statement, not a question.

“There was no point. She will never answer you, so it was futile allowing you to ask the question. But, I suppose, it might be better if you see that for yourself.”

“Sherlock, I – ” Molly started, just as Sherlock said, “Molly?”

They stopped, each laughing in a way that was not humourous but told the other that they would be okay.

“I don’t blame you, Sherlock,” said Molly. “It – it wasn’t your fault. You were trying to save me, and I can’t blame you for that, not ever. I know – ” she swallowed. “I know I might be… standoffish. For a while. But it’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t have to apologise, you – you were saving my life, Sherlock, never apologise for that. Never apologise for – for doing a good thing. Sometimes good things hurt. That’s…” she glanced towards the woman in the cell who still sat with her back to them, unmoving. “That’s life, I suppose.”

“I know. And that’s – that’s not what I’m sorry for.”

Sherlock’s eyes were wide, devoid of the excitement of a case of the iciness of boredom, instead filled with a sincerity that Molly had only seen a handful of times.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stepping forwards and taking her hands. She could feel his fingers shaking against hers. “I’m sorry because – because I _do_ love you. But not in the way I should. Not in the way you deserve. Not in the way you want me to.”

“Sherlock – ”

“Please, let me finish?”

She was ready to get angry when she realised that it wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear what she had to say, or that he thought that what he had to say was more important. It was that if he didn’t say this now, he would never be able to summon up the courage again.

She nodded.

“I know – I know what you want,” he said shakily, and she could tell how much it was costing him to keep eye contact. “I know what sort of relationship you want with me, and I – I can’t give you that. I wish I could, and – and John thinks I can – but I _can’t_. I love you, and it’s different from any way I’ve ever loved anyone before, but I – I know it’s not enough.”

Slowly, Molly brought up a hand to cup Sherlock’s face. “Don’t apologise,” she said firmly, brushing her thumb across his cheek. “ _Never_ apologise for that. You understand me?”

He nodded, and she smiled despite herself.

“Sherlock, I – I don’t want you to be anyone else. So what if, if life doesn’t go according to plan? That’s the exciting thing about life, surely? I know you, Sherlock, and I – I love you. I love you enough that I don’t want you to try to be someone you’re not. I love you enough that I don’t care if you are or aren’t a certain way. I love _you_ , Sherlock. Not the idea of you. I don’t care what John or anyone else says. We need each other, and we care about each other, and that’s all we need. As long as we know that?” She smiled sadly, and he smiled back. “I think we’ll be just fine.”

She jumped at a noise crackled through the speakers, turning to see the woman standing up, playing the violin. She stared straight at Molly as she played and in her eyes Molly saw a deep, irreversible sadness, a longing, a loneliness.

Even though the woman did not say anything, did not even communicate the slightest movement, Molly knew what to do.

“Shall we dance?” she asked Sherlock, who was staring at his sister as she played. He turned to look at Molly before nodding once, not wanting to disturb the music, and took her right hand in his left, resting his right hand on her waist.

And they danced.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment letting me know what you thought.
> 
> Find me on tumblr: singing-fangirl


End file.
